Just Easier than Bein' Kinda Plain
by Syntyche
Summary: Something's up with QuiGon Jinn, and ObiWan Kenobi is determined to find out what it is.


**Title:** Just Easier Than Bein' Kinda Plain

**Author:** Syntyche

**Rating: **PG for mild swearing

**Archive:** Ask me first please, just so I know where it's going.

**Disclaimer:** Not meant to infringe on any copyrights held by anyone important, ie, George Lucas, Lucasfilm, 21st Century Fox, etc., and ALSO not meant to insult anyone with my admittedly perverse sense of humor. It's just easy to find Obi angst in everything, and this is just me, killing off another plot bunny.

**Disclaimer#2:** This story is complete farce. It has been sitting on my hard drive for nigh unto two years, and as silly and bizarre as it is, I just felt it should see the light of day. I have dozens of fic-lets and story snippets gathering dust; may as well share them, no? (hehe … in the case of this one, though, probably that answer is a resounding _no!)_

**Synopsis:** Something's up with Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan's determined to find out what it is …

_**For Jacinta Kenobi … the fan every writer dreams of having. Thank you!**_

**Just Easier Than Bein' Kinda Plain**

**By: Syntyche**

In its usually terribly unexciting corner of the kitchen, the toaster had bucked its everyday stability and unexcited-ness and caught fire. Thick black smoke was also pouring from the open oven door and rising toward the ceiling in odious, unhealthy billows that coiled upward and outward and drifted into the common room, slightly curling the fronds of the decorative potted plants that resided there. The freshly squeezed juice was somehow all pulp and seeds and lacking the, well … juicy part; the omelets were burnt and smoldering; the milk wasn't blue; and peering into the oven it was obvious to see that the rashers were ashes and the bangers were all banged out.

In short, breakfast was a disaster.

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was irritated, to say the least.

"One simple thing," he murmured, shaking his head dejectedly. His attempts at cooking breakfast had failed, and failed miserably. It was going to be another oatmeal morning. Yum. Obi-Wan would be thrilled.

At least the tea was perfect, Qui-Gon thought with a disconsolate but utterly heartfelt sigh, peeking contentedly into his steaming teacup. He did know how to make tea. And instant oatmeal. Anything else, however, was quite a different story. Some people were at home in a kitchen; he most certainly was not. Obi-Wan was the Master Chef component of their Master/Padawan pair, and even then Obi-Wan's culinary abilities were rather limited to soup or macaroni noodles with cheese sludge. Thank the Force for takeout, Qui-Gon mused, or he and Obi-Wan would have starved long ago.

Somewhat belatedly the fire alarm over the stove began shrieking insistently and a second later Qui-Gon heard a _smack!_ _thud! _from Obi-Wan's room as the sleepy Padawan, mistaking the fire alarm for his own morning chrono buzzer, enthusiastically but somewhat misguidedly hurled the unfortunate device against the bedroom wall with an accompanying and thoroughly unintelligible groan.

As that action was a part of Obi-Wan's normal morning routine, Qui-Gon only shook his head and sighed, and returned to his perusal of the disaster he'd created in the kitchen. Eyeing the sad remains of the omelet, the Jedi Master could only offer another gloomy shake of his head as he dumped the entire contents of the pan into the recycler.

After barely a second thought, he threw the scorched pan into the recycler as well. They went through a lot of dishes, but it also saved time from having to wash them. It was a win-win situation.

Obi-Wan padded in a few moments later, seemingly oblivious to the … congested air of the common room, the hem of his overlong sleep pants catching under his heels as he trudged toward the table. Qui-Gon studied his Padawan for a moment, taking in Obi-Wan's typical morning appearance: unshaved jawline and frazzed bedhead hair, bleary eyes, and constant yawning barely covered by a belated hand. Qui-Gon cautiously reached up to touch his own smartly pulled-back mahogany mane and neatly-trimmed beard. He was clean, fresh, and ready to go anywhere. The only place Obi-Wan looked ready to go was back to bed.

As an afterthought, Qui-Gon frazzed his hair … just a bit.

"You're making breakfast?" was what Qui-Gon assumed Obi-Wan said, judging by the surprised look in his Padawan's blue-grey eyes and the slight scrunch of Obi-Wan's nose, but Obi-Wan hadn't yet slid into Perfect Padawan mode, so it came out sounding like, "Bleeeaargh?"

Qui-Gon straightened his spine determinedly. "Yes. We're having … um …" He trailed off as he surveyed the smoking ruins of his culinary efforts. "Damn."

"Bleeeargh?" Obi-Wan asked curiously, which Qui-Gon translated roughly as "Would you like me to make breakfast?"

"No, no," the Jedi Master replied stiffly. "I'm quite capable, thank you, Padawan." Qui-Gon rounded upon the one breakfast item he'd been able to successfully complete. "Tea?" he asked nonchalantly, with an airy wave of Obi-Wan's slightly chipped blue mug.

Obi-Wan shrugged and Qui-Gon deposited his Padawan's mug on the table, filling it with steaming liquid and nudging the creamer within Obi-Wan's reach. Obi-Wan busied himself with adding copious amounts of both cream and sugar into his tea and stirring it vigorously before contentedly sliding his fingers through the handle to wrap both hands around the worn mug while Qui-Gon watched. It had been his observation that Obi-Wan simply liked holding the warm mug as much as he enjoyed actually drinking his tea.

Obi-Wan slumped over his clasped mug blissfully, closing his eyes and inhaling the fragrant aroma of Coruscant Blend #122. Qui-Gon continued to watch.

After a moment, one blue-grey eye popped open to regard Qui-Gon curiously. Obi-Wan took a slow sip of his tea to clear any remaining rasp from his throat before carefully asking if there was something that Qui-Gon needed.

"Hm?" Qui-Gon answered, a bit surprised. "Oh, no." He turned back to the counter. "Would you, um, like some breakfast? It's nearly ready."

Obi-Wan eyed his Master's handiwork dubiously.

"Uh, no, thank you," he said kindly. "I'm not really very hungry this morning."

Qui-Gon started. "Then I'm not hungry, either," he decided. Obi-Wan looked surprised.

"But, Master," he protested, "don't you always say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day? Otherwise, why would you make me go to all the trouble of preparing it every morning?"

"Breakfast is very important," Qui-Gon returned, "but, um, I'm afraid we're out of … breakfast-type materials."

"No, we can't be," Obi-Wan disagreed, pushing his chair back and rising. "I just went to the store yesterday – I thought we'd have …. " Obi-Wan trailed off as he suddenly realized he was speaking into a cloud of dense black smoke. "Master," he asked cautiously, sounding, Qui-Gon thought, remarkably calm, "I think the kitchen is on fire."

"Uh, no," Qui-Gon answered hastily, "but there was something, ah, on the burner this morning when I went to make tea. You really should be more careful about letting things boil over."

"Oh." And if Obi-Wan was wondering how so much smoke could result from that, he was discreet enough to not mention it. "I'll just, ah, flip on the ventilation systems, then, shall I?" one long finger flicked out to stab the appropriate panel, and within moments the room had begun to clear. Obi-Wan returned to his earlier intention. "Anyway, we should have plenty of food – soup, anyway. And I had planned on making omelets for breakfast – "

"No, Padawan, that's all right," Qui-Gon again interrupted, with a cheery smile. "I think oatmeal will be just fine."

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There is actually more to the story, but it's a continuation of the same so I haven't decided whether to post it or not. It's pretty silly, but I liked the breakfast scene. :-)


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